


Bit by Bit

by BlackCats



Category: Dangan Ronpa
Genre: "What If", Emotional Hurt, Gen, Vague shipping hints
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-11
Updated: 2013-09-11
Packaged: 2017-12-26 07:01:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/962974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackCats/pseuds/BlackCats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mukuro didn’t have an answer. She didn’t know why she had requested his presence in her room so late, she didn’t know why she denied not feeling uncertain regarding Junko’s scheme…she wasn’t confident in anything anymore.</p><p>The cracks spread and grew and she could no longer stop them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bit by Bit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Princess Carys](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Princess+Carys).



“You don’t have to do it, Ikusaba-san.”

Mukuro heard what he was saying, but she was having difficulties processing it. She could hardly process much of _anything_ , to be truthful. She wasn’t sure where to let her eyes rest, because nothing seemed to offer her any solace—or better yet, grief.

Sheathed knives that she technically was not allowed to have only provoked empty memories of desolate battlefields. Neatly stacked tests and assignments, returned to their owner, bore surprisingly good marks and she nearly shied away from the hope etched in every red grade scrawled meticulously on top of the sheets. Her once plain room had acquired school photos and small souvenirs from culture festivals since passed.

Such decorations did not belong in the abode of a soldier. A wild animal, a wolf, set to be unleashed upon the world at her sister’s command. They disagreed with what she had always been for so long, but the new persona that was beginning to tentatively emerge wasn’t…wasn’t  _unpleasant_ …

Despair had been a part of her life. Always. As natural to her as breathing. This terrible weight in her chest that she had trapped between strong jaws, and all other mental surges unrelated to her mission were to be pinned and held fast; never to escape. Her emotions were not important. They had no say in anything in her life, her routine.

And yet…

Bit by bit lately she had felt her hold growing weaker. At least when certain circumstances were met. A fond fleeting thought here, an unexpected smile there, and to her absolute shock…

She knew she was beginning to  _like_ the other students. The students that were to become Junko’s playthings in so short a time. The students that were to be part of a life of mutual killing in a plan so grand in scale that it was unbelievable.

A plan that, in a moment of weakness, she had exposed to Makoto Naegi in one low, wretched murmur.

Mukuro eventually closed her eyes in lieu of searching for a safe landing spot, her hands clenching at her sides. She  _hated_ this boy and yet she did not, because something about his gentle idealism appealed to this new facet of herself that was beginning to think that maybe…Maybe…

_I shouldn’t participate in Junko’s plot after all._

The thought itself was akin to high blasphemy, as far as she was concerned. Junko was her dearest sibling, a visionary who could create purpose and destination for those who had no idea what to do with their meaningless lives. To keep her happy and satisfied was all that mattered. Surely…her sister cared for her…right?

Even with her despair agenda, Junko Enoshima couldn’t possibly betray her…not unless Mukuro failed to perform, and if so she would deserve such a fate.

Right?

She was beginning to  _doubt_. She was beginning to see the madness behind her sister’s intricate wordplay, as thickly woven as jungle vines. And who was indirectly responsible for breeding light in a cold heart of despair?

Makoto Naegi.

Mukuro felt, for the first time in a long while… _sick_. She didn’t know what to do, what to think. Her thoughts tripped over themselves and her heart was twisting, despite beating slowly and calmly, it felt as if it was attempting to evacuate from her chest.

The soldier, who was normally so perfectly composed, felt herself breaking.

None of this showed on her face, on her body, in her posture. The lone indication was a hardening of her gray eyes, but no one would have found that unusual save for Junko—she could always read her like a book.

She wished desperately that her sister was here simply to tell her what to think, what to  _do_ , but this was her private room and it was far too late at night for anyone to be around.  _She_  had invited Naegi here. _She_  had invited him to talk. And now _she_ , the greatest wolf in Fenrir, was trapped like a rabbit in its warren, the dogs baying outside.

Concern was evident in Naegi’s clear green gaze, but Mukuro was too preoccupied to notice. He took a hesitant step forward from his place near the door, a hand outstretched just a bit. “…Ikusaba-san?”

Mukuro didn’t open her eyes. “What choice do I have?” She asked in a hoarse whisper. “She’s my sister. I _have_  to help her.”

“Ikusaba-san…You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he said. The quiet timbre of his voice was becoming stronger, more confident—he honestly believed what he was saying. She had seen this in him before. A core of steel beneath layers of soft fleece. “What your sister wants…i-if Enoshima-san really intends to create a ‘school life of mutual killing’…You don’t have to be a part of it.”

Mukuro shook her head after a tense moment. “…I can’t disappoint her. She’s…the only thing I have…”

“But that isn’t true!” Naegi exclaimed with such exuberance that Mukuro finally looked at him. He had clenched a fist and despite the obvious tremble in his scrawny frame, there was  _ferocity_ in his faintly narrowed eyes. “Y-You don’t have to be alone, Ikusaba-san.”

She flinched as if this statement physically harmed her, and she felt her chokehold on that bleak black spot within her slipping.

“I’m sure that everyone would support you if you needed it!” Naegi went on, blissfully unaware of how perilously close to a dangerous ledge he was. “We can stop Enoshima-san before this starts, and…”

“And?” Mukuro asked in a deadly quiet tone.

“W-We could _help_  Enoshima-san. I’m not sure why she would do all of this just for despair, but it’s not normal…!” He looked so nervous now, but she admired the fact that he continued regardless. He didn’t seem to know where he was going with his current trend of thought. “Maybe if we could all just talk to her…Ikusaba-san, I understand that she’s your sister, but—“

Fury flashed through her, so hot and intense that Mukuro felt herself growling in response before she had even realized it. “You don’t understand  _anything_.”

Naegi shut up immediately, his mouth hanging open for a moment before closing again.

Mukuro took in a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. It wasn’t working well. Not as good as it usually did. That  _alone_  was an alarming fact and it served to upset her more, but when she next spoke, it was reasonably calmer. “…Do you know what despair is, Naegi-kun?”

She saw confusion cross his face. She didn’t typically address him with “-kun”. Even with all their friendly meetings throughout the school semesters, she had never dropped her formality in the same way he failed to drop his. “It’s sadness,” he said hesitantly.

“It’s  _more_.”

He lifted a hand partway to his mouth, almost  _cringing_ into the wall. Mukuro wondered what she must have looked like, to create such a reaction in her friend.

Her friend.

Her  _friend_.

That  _single word_  sparked more confusion inside of her and Mukuro had to summon every ounce of willpower she had to retain some semblance of tranquility, as much for her own sake as his.

“…More, Ikusaba-san?” He murmured, uncertain.

“More,” she repeated, her eyes tracking along the breadth of the room. “Despair…is a state of being. The  _deepest_ sadness. The most profound misery.” Her voice dropped, quieting. “There’s an indescribable beauty in tragedy and pain. In the fragility in life..shattered. Did you know that?”

“Is that what Enoshima-san thinks despair is?” Naegi finally managed to choke out.

Mukuro had a feeling he was wishing he wasn’t here alone with her, but there was nothing to be done there. He likely would have been a bit calmer with _some_ sort of support at the moment. “It’s what we _both_  think.”

Shock blazed—bright and brief—in his eyes, in his voice, electrifying his whole being into action. He stood straighter, startled. “Did you say ‘we’, Ikusaba-san?”

Her gaze returned to him. “I did.”

“You…You’re looking for despair too?”

She pulled her chin down in a sharp nod, abrupt as a bird’s movements.

Naegi appeared as if he couldn’t quite believe it. “Why…Why would  _you_ wish for despair, Ikusaba-san?”

A long pause. “Because this world is worthless,” she intoned flatly.

His fists clenched. “That…That’s not true…!”

“For me it is.” Mukuro exhaled heavily. The only person she had ever confessed her views toward had been Junko, and of course her sister had twisted them even more-so long ago. But that had been fine, it made no difference. “Even on the battlefield, I feel little purpose. If anything it proves my point. The world is rotten and I would have no place in it…if not for Junko.”

Naegi was absorbing all of this, but she could already tell from the way he was regarding her—a mixture of fear, something almost like pity, and spiced with  _compassion_ —that her talk of despair did nothing to put out his hope.

“But Enoshima-san wants to hurt others just to experience despair…How can you allow that?”

“If she wanted this world burned down, I would help her.” Mukuro shrugged. And for a glorious moment she could sense the rebuilding of her calm exterior, her protective shell that hid every emotion as a soldier was expected to have perfected. Things likely would have been all right, she reasoned, if not for what Naegi said next.

“You’ve got that wrong.”

She froze.

“If you  _really_  felt that way, why did you tell me about Enoshima-san’s plan at all? I think you  _do_ care, Ikusaba-san! I think you want to save everyone from despair!”

And his eyes just  _shone_  like stars, like fireworks, hope sparkling intense and dazzling against the featureless black sky of despair.

Mukuro didn’t have an answer. She didn’t know  _why_  she had requested his presence in her room so late, she didn’t know  _why_  she denied not feeling uncertain regarding Junko’s scheme…she wasn’t confident in anything anymore.

The cracks spread and grew and she could no longer stop them.

Naegi continued, misreading her (now visible) turmoil. “You don’t have to go along with Enoshima-san’s plan for despair.” He clapped a hand to his chest, over his heart, drawing himself up and staring at her with an unexpected strength clear in his mannerisms. “If you’re really feeling that same despair as her, I’d like to free you from it, and show you hope!”

“ _Hope_?” She hissed, and she watched him quail at the venom in her words. Mukuro was grasping at shards of her old composure now, but every second that crawled by, she knew that the conflict in her heart and mind was finally overcoming her. “ _Hope_ , Naegi-kun?”

 He tried to stammer an answer, but she lunged at him, grabbing his shoulders and turning on her heel in the same movement.  Before he could even get a startled shout out, she thrust him against the empty space between her desk and one of her shelves. He let out a gasp of pain, but he would only suffer a bruise at worst, so she was unconcerned.

 _(Why was she_  concerned at all _about him? He shouldn’t matter, only Junko mattered—)_ Her thoughts raged and warred within her mind, more intense and violent than  _any_  battlefield she had ever known before.

“I-Ikusaba-san—!”

“What could your  _hope_  possibly mean for me?” She whispered, pinning him to the wall like an insect.

To his credit, he actually tried to reply. “Th-There’s nothing beautiful about grief, Ikusaba-san…But if you hang onto hope, even bad things can get better…th-the world isn’t rotten at all…”

Mukuro wasn’t even aware of what she was doing; it was as if she was watching someone else control her body as her hand slid up and  _pushed_ , suffocating, choking the poor boy known as Makoto Naegi.

He strained in her grip, fingers seeking to pry hers away, even as his face turned paler and paler. “I-Ikusaba-san…”

It was his fault.  _His. Fault._ His fault more than  _anyone_ else’s! With his stupid smile, his idiotic naivete, his ridiculous  _fucking_ pale green gaze—

He had ruined it. Ruined  _her_. Ruined the relative peace she had known as Super High School Level Soldier Mukuro Ikusaba. He had made her wish for sunnier things. Brighter things. Quiet warmth and gentle laughter over the sting of tears and the crushing weight of despondence.

Mukuro saw it.

His eyes acquired the most  _wonderful_ darkness. The usual resplendent sparkle that had persevered in spite of it all was threatening to go out. She could just  _see_ the horror paralyzing him as he realized he was about to die at the hands of someone he had considered his friend.

She let him go.

Naegi fell to the ground, on his hands and knees, gasping for air. He massaged his neck and shivered over and over, great wracking tremors that coaxed tears of relief and fear from his eyes.

Mukuro staggered backwards and sat on her bed, watching him.

Oh… _God_ …how out of breath he was, how he was too afraid to even look up at her anymore…how she could just  _sense_  his idealism regarding her beginning to fray and crumble as his own uncertainty clashed with his desperation to see good in every _one_ , in every _thing_ …!

She giggled.

It started low and soft and quiet in her throat, but every moment that went by it got louder and louder. Mukuro couldn’t stop herself, couldn’t stop the rush of disgust and terrible wonder that was flooding her.

It didn’t stop until Naegi finally lifted his head, unease causing his words to stumble on their way out. “I-I-Ikusaba-san…?”

She pressed a hand to her face, a  _slooow_ smile stretching across her features though it was partially obscured. Mukuro’s gray eyes flashed. “The despair that Junko and I share…there’s something I forgot to tell you.”

He was trying very hard not to stare at the door, to run away; she knew. She had no idea why he  _wasn’t_ bolting, to be truthful. Perhaps he thought she’d kill him before he got the chance, Super High School Level Good Luck or not. For once, he didn’t answer.

“It’s more than a beauty,” she said in a throaty whisper. “It’s a  _pleasure_.”

Naegi shivered, and she almost laughed again.

Ahh…she felt refreshed.  _Very_ refreshed. Mukuro realized that it had been so long since she had allowed her own emotions to break through to  _herself_. She had forgotten.

She loved despair. She hated it for what it made her do but  _oh_ that was the delightful paradox. Junko reveled in it and Mukuro found the only greater joy to be making her sister happy.

Still…

Meeting Naegi’s horrified stare, she couldn’t help but imagine what the joy of hope might have felt like. Could she have found it, with him? With the others?

Mukuro had fully regained her composure. She tilted her head slightly and continued to look at Naegi. He really was something…the hope he caused to blossom within her was a truly sickening despair.

“…I’m sorry,” she said.

Naegi looked surprised.

Another short pause. She had blown their cover and thus Junko’s plan would have to start rolling a bit earlier than expected. Mukuro sighed. “I promise when tomorrow comes…it’ll be like this never happened.”

She owed him that much, at least. She stood, and he took several steps back, but in the end it made no difference.

**Author's Note:**

> Courtesy of my friend Carys, the prompt was something akin to Mukuro breaking down and showing a side similar to her sister. Rather tricky for me and this story is obviously somewhat AU-ish but I hope it was enjoyable nonetheless!


End file.
